


suki alone

by coveredinsun



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (aka 1k words of suki angst), Angst, Gen, Hurt with no Comfort, Suki (Avatar) Needs a Hug, about an episode that explored suki’s origins as a warrior, and we should talk about that, because being held in a max security prison as a 15yo is traumatizing, because if i have to suffer then you bitches will suffer with me!, i was talking to a friend about this, so I wrote this, suki (Avatar) centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27747742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredinsun/pseuds/coveredinsun
Summary: Mourning is a reality of war that Suki knows like the back of her ungloved, bare hand. It is cold like the chill of night and unforgiving like the winter waves the Unagi brings.It is still yet kinetic, unloving like the mother Suki has not seen in years– it makes you wonder about what could have been, but never for too long.
Relationships: Sokka/Suki (Mentioned)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	suki alone

**Author's Note:**

> the concept of a suki alone episode will always intrigue me. there is no way this 15 year old girl could be perfectly fine after being separated from everyone she’s ever known and held at a maximum security prison and i stand by that. so this is just a little drabble. might come back and write more, i’m not sure. 
> 
> trigger warning for vaguely implied sexual assault/abuse. it is only briefly mentioned, no details at all, but if that triggers you then this is your warning.

The stone floor of the temple was cold. It didn’t get much sun.

The air was cool, too. It was early in the morning. It chilled Suki’s skin, made her shiver. It got cold back on Kyoshi, too; but the warmth its people brought their tiny island was enough to last the most freezing winter.

Now there was none of that. Only cold, hollow footsteps. 

Sokka had offered to sleep next to her at night. She had been hesitant to answer, running certain assurances through her head, over and over again. Twisting them around until they felt like something akin to _right_.

_The nights will never again be as long as they were (in prison.)_

_Sokka would kill someone if they tried to touch you as they had (in prison.)_

_Sokka is a warrior, one who still cared about you (in prison.)_

Sokka did not get angry when Suki said no. He only looked at her, downcast. Like he knew it would happen. 

It was the same look Oyaji gave her when she was eight years old, begging the leader of the warriors to train her. She swore she would grow into the fans when she found that her hands were not big enough to hold them. She swore she would make the entire island proud as she corrected all the smudges in her facepaint.

It was the same look Oyaji gave her when she was fourteen, when the other warriors elected her as their new leader after the old leader died– a noble death, a _warrior’s death._ That is what everyone called it. Suki would never tell how much she wondered if her death had changed the world outside their little island.

Suki would give anything to die a warrior’s death, to die defending her home. Yet whenever she thought of her inevitable demise, a pit grew where her lungs should have been, and she kept her mouth shut whenever she thought about dying like the old leader– dying without changing the world. The Avatar’s return was a wake up call; one that screamed at her to take her warriors and change the world. 

In prison, she wondered if she would die a warrior’s death; one amongst her sisters rather than her enemies. It was too quiet, too lonely, too metallic and solitary to sleep. Suki thought about it for hours on end, uninterrupted if lucky, and she found that the answer was no.

_You cannot change the world in prison._

Even now, as she listened to the shuffle of her torn shoes on the cold stone floor, she was not certain she would die a warrior’s death. Her sisters were miles away, scattered in their own prisons, and she was doing nothing about it. She freed herself but has not acted to help her sisters. The guilt built up in her heart, a heavy weight to hold. 

She could not make the entire island proud by getting herself and all her sisters imprisoned. She did not deserve a warrior’s death if she could not even help _them_. 

Suki had wandered an unknown distance from the others in the winding hallways and cliffside stairways of the temple. Maybe they’d send someone to find her; Sokka would be the most worried, and Aang knew the temple best. But that concern couldn’t push itself to the forefront of her mind, not among the other things already whirling around in there. It was mesmerizing, this temple, but she could not bring herself to pay much attention.

All she could think about were her sisters and how dejected they must have been in their cells. How could she stay their leader? How could anyone _possibly_ respect her after this?

The stone floor of the temple was cold when Suki all but collapsed onto it. In that solitude she felt free to let hot tears hit the floor. She held herself in that still, lightless room. Her own touch felt unfamiliar, and she wondered if she would ever feel safe being touched by anyone again. Guards and inmates alike were unkind to her in prison. Eventually she did not have the energy to fight back against them. 

It was cruel in that prison. She carried the weight of it in her bones every day. Yet she couldn’t help but think it was unfair to pity herself when her sisters were lost. She was staying with Kyoshi’s reincarnate and she had the audacity to think about herself.

 _No leader should ever be so selfish._

It felt vain to revel in this state of self pity, this chamber that only echoed back the words she should not give voice to. So instead she mourned for her sisters, disunited and scattered. She mourned for the old leader, for her death that was hollow, forgettable, yet noble all the same.

For some stupid reason Suki mourned for herself, for the leader that held onto foolish hope of changing the world; for the fifteen year old girl who flinched at the touch of another. She mourned for her little island that she could not protect, for all the sacrifices that meant nothing against the greater good.

Mourning is a reality of war that Suki knows like the back of her ungloved, bare hand. It is cold like the chill of night and unforgiving like the winter waves the Unagi brings. It is still yet kinetic, unloving like the mother Suki has not seen in years– it makes you wonder about what could have been, but never for too long. 

Suki knew loss like a good friend. But never like this, messy and so explosive _._ She has never had to lose someone without the support of her sisters. They were her North Star, an unwavering light made just for her to find her way back home.

Suki wished to spot the North Star in prison but her cell did not have windows.

She did not know how long she cried in that dark room for. It did not matter. No one would see her there. When they finally did come looking for her, she would pretend to be ready to face her fate. 

When Suki would finally emerge from that lightless room, she would act ready to face a war that would consume her tiny island in flames. She would act ready to face a world she could not change. 

**Author's Note:**

> anywayssss i hope you guys liked this. i have a lot of thoughts about suki and the depth she could have potentially had. i hope it’s not too out of character lol.
> 
> like all my other fics, let me know what you think!!!!! i’m down to rant about it on twitter @ahsokatara or on tumblr @coveredinsun !!!


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